Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Romeria hands the letter back to me, determination blazing in her eyes. “Let’s go meet his army and find out for ourselves.”
My gelding reels as I rein it in, stalling the line. “This is as close as we get.” A quick glance confirms Caindra hanging back. Far enough to allow for a parley, close enough to pounce as needed.
From here, the destruction to Lyndel’s outer wall is glaring. Large strips are charred black, the stone crumbling and cracked. Areas still smolder, the embers hidden inside enough to kindle my affinity. I can’t imagine what devastation lies beyond the wall.
“Lyndel has withstood invasion for millennia, and yet it fell in the hours before daylight, with merely a whisper.” Lord Telor shakes his head. “Thank the fates Erwynn isn’t alive to face this.”
Romeria shakes her head. “I don’t know how you thank the fates for anything.”
“You are not wrong, Your Highness.” His jaw clenches tight against emotions that must be rising. “At least she can rest peacefully in the next life, not knowing the truth of what her son attempted.”
I offer him a wordless pat on the shoulder. As a lord, he put his king and realm first. But as a father, he no doubt sees his son’s betrayal as his own failing.
A row of soldiers appears on the rampart, bows in hand and ready.
“Do they even know what a parley is?” Jarek asks.
“I guess we will soon see.” I search for a leader but find no crests or plumes to identify one.
Romeria’s eyes shine silver with a shield as we wait for the main gate to open.
“Between Mordain and Caindra, we could overcome these vermin,” Abarrane notes.
“And every innocent person in there would die,” Romeria retorts.
“They will likely die, anyway.”
“Likely does not mean definitely.”
I’m about to order them to cut their bickering when the spring of a catapult launch sounds. Several objects sail up, into the air. They land nearby, scattering. One rolls to a stop by our horses’ hooves.
Lord Telor sighs as he peers down at the head. “That was my steward.”
“I suppose this is their answer about a parley.” I give him a moment to say a silent prayer for his subject’s soul. “This is your city. What is your preference?”
His face is grim. “To kill every last one of them and reclaim Lyndel.”
“Then that is what we will do.”
35
Tyree
The inside of the ramshackle tavern smells of bone broth and unwashed bodies. Precisely what I was looking for. There isn’t a better place in any realm to ferret information and cajole a guide than a shady watering hole lined with drunks.
I sidle up to the bar, my hood still drawn. The barkeep spouts off a string of words in his tongue that I don’t understand, but when I point to the keg behind him, he sets to pouring me a pint.
He slaps it on the counter with a grunt of a word, the ale sloshing out over his hand.
“Do you understand me?” I ask.
The answering scowl and headshake says he doesn’t. Or doesn’t want to.
I expected as much. Fishing the hairbrush I confiscated from Annika’s room out of my cloak, I set it on the counter in front of me. Anyone could take half a glance and see the value in the solid gold handle.
Sure enough, the barkeep’s eyes widen. This is worth more than what this poor sod makes in five years. He reaches for it with a meaty paw.
But I’m too quick, snatching it a split second before it’s in his grasp. I waggle my finger. “I’ll be over there.” I point to a table by the window—a good vantage point to watch the door as well as the street outside. “Find someone who can understand me.” I collect my mug, and weaving around the tables, I settle into my corner to wait. It could be awhile, given what our guide said, about the ancient language not spoken much outside the temple.
Leaving King Hadkiel’s castle was easier than I expected. They were too busy watching for people trying to sneak in. Luckily, the side of the tower they stuck us in was covered in moss. Not my favorite, but I fashioned a sturdy ladder with my affinity and climbed down. From there, I slipped past the guards and tossed a strategically aimed stone at the back of one’s head as a group of city dwellers ambled by. The guards ran out to accost them, and I slipped past the gate.
The mortals here are as simple-minded as the ones in our realm.
I sense what King Hadkiel said earlier, about them living in shadow—whatever that means. There is a somber cloud hanging over these people, their shoulders hunched, their voices flat. There isn’t even music playing to help mask the dour mood, as several steal glances my way, either out of curiosity over a stranger or because they heard about the valuable prize in my pocket and are searching for my weapons.